


PITA

by copacetic



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, M/M, Modern AU, armie hammer pictures did me in, hot single dad laurence, so very silly, this is so silly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copacetic/pseuds/copacetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU, loosely based on Black Powder War. If it was a gay romantic comedy centered around a farmer's market in Northern England.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just silly fluff, and it's all Mal's fault, for making a lovely fancast for Laurence. In the gif he was wearing a plaid shirt, and then talk was made of bake sales and yoga pants and then I decided since farmer!Laurence is one of my favorite Laurences, he would be an organic farmer with a heartfelt feud with a Frenchman by the name of Napoleon Bonaparte. Because that makes sense to me. 
> 
> Oh and he teaches yoga in his free time. Because the only additional thing for hot!single!dad!Laurence is for him to be in yoga pants.
> 
> And since we don't get nearly enough Edith in canon, I made Edith central. I think in a modern AU, they would totally work things out and decide that they weren't really compatible, but they still loved each other, and be BFFs. 
> 
> I totally stole a Wodehouse line, and an Achewood punchline. Also, totally not British, please tell me what sounds American. 
> 
> I am not finished with this, but I thought I might as well post it in installments as not. It's much more snippet like than I like to usually do, but what can you do.

"Damn." Laurence says quietly. "I'm going to need change for this." Granby eyes him sympathetically. 

"Do it for the poor souls in purgatory." Granby advises, pointing a carrot at him. Laurence looks toward Chenery's stall, a dismally long distance away. 

Laurence tries to walk past Bonaparte's stall as unobtrusively as possible, but his height makes it difficult. "Ah, Captain Laurence!" Bonaparte says, too loudly for Laurence to pretend he hadn't heard him. 

Laurence turns, nods. "Bonaparte." To his horror, Bonaparte is already coming out from behind his mounds of produce. "No, no, don't put yourself out." he manages weakly. 

Bonaparte kisses him on both cheeks. Laurence bears it manfully. 

Bonaparte turns, an arm around Laurence's shoulders. He's shorter than Laurence, so it pulls a little awkwardly. He sweeps a hand out to indicate his produce, and the passerby picking over it. "Quite a good summer so far, don't you think, Captain?" 

Laurence frowns a little at Bonaparte's aubergines. They are quite unfairly gorgeous. 

He dislikes the nickname- it's something Bonaparte came up with once to needle him. Now every time he says it he smiles, as if at his own private joke. "Yes, quite." Laurence says, trying to shuffle politely out of Bonaparte's grip. "I need to make change." He says, holding up the banknotes in supplication. 

Bonaparte accepts this, releasing him. To Laurence's horror, he opens his money envelope. "Come, come, I have some smaller notes. We must help each other out, we small farmers."

It's a little rich, in Laurence's opinion, for Bonaparte to place himself in the cast of a small farmer. His land is easily three times the size of Laurence's, although much of it is devoted to his bees. 

He keeps buying more land, too, patiently adding more acreage to his farm. He calls it Vive Le'Empereur. 

Murat is laughing at him, Laurence sees, trying to hide it behind a swede. Laurence narrows his eyes as Murat mouths something rude in French. 

Laurence accepts the bank notes. When he murmurs, "Thank you," he means it to sting. 

Bonaparte rocks backs on his heels in satisfaction. "And how was Temeraire's summer?" 

Laurence brightens. "Very good, I think. We worked on the farm, of course, and he's been learning Japanese." 

Bonaparte laughs. "Ah, Lien speaks Japanese too! I will have to ask her to tutor him." Laurence tries to think of a polite exit strategy. "She has been teaching Joseph Mandarin. We are quite at a loss when they speak to each other now. I tried to pick it up when I adopted Lien, of course, but I never understood the tones." He shakes his head, then brightens. "Ah, mon petit chou!" He says, looking behind Laurence. 

Laurence turns and sees Bonaparte's family, Anahuarque holding Joseph. Lien, her white hair in neat plaits, looks at Laurence coolly. She nods, red eyes dismissive. "Do say hello to Temeraire for me." She says, in the same way as Laurence's mother speaking of a mouse in the kitchen. 

Laurence escapes as Bonaparte is making his effusive greetings to his family. Laurence can make out a few words of it, but his schoolboy French is woefully inadequate. 

When he returns to his stall, Granby consoles him, "At least Lien is leaving for university next year. You won't have to see him at the PITA anymore." 

"The PTA." Laurence corrects. Granby just grins. "I suppose you're right." Laurence says, resting his elbows on the produce table. A lady peers at him from where she's been reading the labels on his cinnamon rolls. 

"Are these gluten free?" She asks. Laurence holds in a sigh. He is going to start bolding wheat flour in the ingredient list. 

"No, they are not, I'm sorry, ma'am." She huffs a little, setting the package down, and moves on to his tomatoes. 

Edith and Little walk into their stall, an irregular trail of children following in their wake. Laurence checks for Iskierka's proximity to any fragile items out of habit. Temeraire comes around the table and stands next to Laurence. 

Little is stuffing the last of a cinnamon roll into his mouth, Laurence notes, and he doesn't remember Granby stealing any earlier. 

"Will, John." Edith nods politely. "Bonaparte has just been giving us some samples. You should do samples, Will." 

Laurence narrows his eyes. "Of what?" He asks, watching Little tear off another piece from the roll in his hand. 

Iskierka pops her head up on Laurence's side of the table, sneaking under fast. "Cinnamon rolls!" She throws her arms around Granby's neck. "And they're gluten free, Mr. Laurence." She says, trying to climb Granby's shoulders. Temeraire settles himself serenely on Laurence's knee, Laurence having to resettle his weight. Temeraire isn't as little as he used to be, Laurence thinks with a familiar twinge. But he won't allow himself to be distracted from the newest French perfidy. 

"He's making gluten free cinnamon rolls." Laurence says, nostrils flaring slightly. 

Edith nods, wiping delicately at the corner of her mouth. "Yes, and orange zest and brown sugar ones, too." She burps politely, covering her mouth. Little still has his mouth full, but he nods assent. "Augustine had two. Bonaparte said he's ordering them from a new supplier, he just set them out." 

Laurence is half tempted to call them both traitors and order them out of the tent, but it would get around to Bonaparte. 

Besides, Granby would sulk. 

Granby has managed to settle Iskierka on his shoulders. She tries to make a bid for the cash box but Granby just slides it toward Laurence for protection. Laurence sees Temeraire eyeing it with interest. He puts a tomato on top to alert him if it's opened. 

"This will make the bake sales more interesting." Edith says. "You might have some real competition in the cinnamon rolls category this year, Will."

Granby says darkly, "This means war." 

Laurence can feel Edith's concerned gaze, but he still nods grimly along.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edith Edith Edith!

Laurence settles Temeraire more firmly on his shoulders. The sun is warm in his face. 

Edie walks along next to him, just starting to waddle. "Lovely day for a picnic." She says, breathing just a little heavy. Rose runs by, holding Eliza's hand. "Oh, yes girls. Run up ahead with daddy and Bertie." 

Temeraire kicks him, just a little bit. "Father, look at Arthur." 

Laurence turns a little. Arthur runs by, mud on his face and without any trousers. Thankfully he still has his underwear on. He is brandishing a long stick with his trousers on the end to make a lumpy flag, and he's shouting something at his sisters. 

He practically flies past them, the girls up ahead picking up speed to dodge him. Edith huffs out a long sigh. "At least I know where his trousers are, this time." She mutters, almost to herself. "Devil child." 

Laurence frowns. "He does take up a lot of energy. But it's not good to call him devil child. It's bad for his self image." 

"Right, Father." Temeraire agrees.

Edith sighs again. "You just say that because you were the devil child of your family." 

"Was he really?" Temeraire asks with interest. 

Laurence coughs. "No, I wasn't. Edith is a compulsive liar, it's unfortunate."

"Remember when you read all those Master And Commander books, and decided you were going to be a sailor? Your father," she says to Temeraire, who is listening with great intent, "stole a little rowboat from the potting shed, and took me out on the pond to experience the high seas. Except he made me walk the plank for insubordination, which I still don't think is actual Navy procedure. I didn't know how to swim, so he had to jump in and rescue me. Your grandmother had to cut my hair, it had so much duckweed tangled in it."

Up ahead, Arthur is using the stick as a primitive atlatl to try and launch his trousers. Laurence and Edith both sigh. 

 

Edith smirks at him over her teacup. "Enough about me, though. What's this I hear about you and a certain new parent in the PTA? You made him cinnamon rolls." She lifts her eyebrows. "You don't make me cinnamon rolls hardly ever anymore." 

Laurence pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "You steal them anyway. It's all for nothing, though. He hates me, Edie. He just ignores whatever I do."

She pokes him in the side, but gently enough he knows she's not really mad. "He doesn't know you, Will, how could he hate you? Nobody," she says with a firmness in her tone that warms his heart, "can really know you and hate you. Even Bonaparte likes you." Laurence huffs a little at that, and she smiles. "I bet you could get some of his compost tea if you smiled a little more, or even the stall with the better light." 

Laurence purses his lips. "He started it. Those tomatoes-"

She pokes him again, more pointedly this time. "Enough, enough. I want to make bread, help me reassemble the dishwasher before Bertie gets home." Laurence stands up from the table, and she reaches up her hands peremptorily to be pulled up. 

"Edie, I meant to ask earlier." Laurence says as Edith pushes ineffectually at the foot pressing on her ribcage. 

"Oh, shove over, silly baby, mommy can't breathe when you do that." Edith says. "Oh, about what, Will?" 

"Why does the dishwasher need to be reassembled?" He asks, surveying the pieces and parts. 

She puffs out a breath and pulls at her maternity leggings. "Oh, I thought I smelled mold. So I pulled it all apart, and found quite a lot of mold, and bits of old food too. Then I cleaned it with baking soda and vinegar. I'm not quite certain," she says, doubt creeping in her voice, "that I remember what order they go in." She brightens and smiles at him. "But, you're here." 

"I can fix the tractor." Laurence protests. "I've never done a dishwasher." 

"Bertie will be home soon, with the kids. I'd like to have the bread ready." Laurence recognizes an order when he hears one. "We can watch Master And Commander while it's rising, if the dishwasher is fixed by then." She pats his face.

"And I can show you a few new asanas." Laurence says hopefully. "I keep telling John that I can teach the prenatal class."

Edith shrugs. "Alright, but remind me to close the blinds. Last time Bertie came home early and told me I was flashing my knickers at half the street. Roland winked at me the next day, too."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have an Arkady snippet! I'm convinced that actual single!dad!Tharkay parenting Arkady would end in a housefire.

"My papa says that Socrates was the first to say," Arkady says solemnly, chewing a piece of grass in a meditative fashion, "Fuck them if they can't take a joke." 

Laurence nearly chokes on his coffee as he snaps language at Arkady. Granby looks at his expression and laughs, slapping him on the back. Arkady grins, and Laurence suspects that he's done this before. 

"Arkady, what have we said about swearing?" Granby says when he's calmed down. 

"Not to do it when Mr. Laurence or the teachers are around." Arkady says, sing song. 

Granby thinks about this for a moment. "Or Iskierka." He says. Arkady makes to demur, but Granby lifts his eyebrows, and he subsides with a slightly mutinous look. 

"It's better not to swear at all, Arkady." Laurence interjects. "Temeraire is quite the young gentleman, and he doesn't swear." Arkady looks dubious. 

"Yes, of course." Granby says, sipping coffee. 

"Does Iskierka?" Arkady asks. 

Granby wiggles his hook to indicate scales being balanced. "Maybe a little, if the occasion calls for it. But not around the teachers, or Mr. Laurence."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, have some Woolvey too.

Woolvey looks around, a little desperately. "Don't you have anyone else to talk to about this?" 

Laurence takes another pull. "Not really." He admits. "Tom is overseas, and it's three am in Thailand. Jane and John just laugh at me. I thought Edie might be up, so I walked over." 

Woolvey holds out a hand. Wordlessly, Laurence hands over the whiskey.

Surprisingly, Woolvey doesn't react much to the straight whiskey, just swallows smoothly. "Ah, that does make you feel better, doesn't it?" He says reflectively, taking another long pull. 

Laurence shrugs slightly, accepting it back. The brown paper crinkles as he rubs his thumb against the bottle. 

"Alright, I think it's kicked in enough for me to talk to you. So." He says, settling a hand under his chin, in a listening pose Laurence otherwise would have laughed at, "What are we talking about, then?" 

Laurence frowns. "You don't know?" 

Woolvey makes a face. "Edie said that you're in love, but you're messing it up thoroughly." 

"That's true enough." Laurence acknowledges. "He thinks I'm a prejudiced English prat, and that my cinnamon rolls aren't as good as Bonaparte's. And he keeps coming to my yoga class, but he doesn't say or do anything while he's there." 

He's aware that this all comes out a little sulky, but the whiskey makes him not care as much. 

Woolvey pauses, then steals the bottle for another drink. "You are English, and you are a bit of a prat." He points at Laurence. "You're my wife's ex boyfriend, I can say that. Not very much of a prat, if it helps."

Laurence rubs his temple. "Oh, that helps, thank you." 

"Oh hush." Woolvey says, "I'm doing you a favor. Look, how did you get together with Jane? She's far more intimidating." 

Laurence ticks off his fingers. "I asked Edie to marry me when we were six, and considered myself an engaged man until she broke up with me when we were sixteen. Jane and I played poker one night, and when she had enough of that she took off her clothes. John yelled 'kiss me already, or I'll do it for you' one morning which I took as permission." He sighs. "I'm just not very good at it." 

Woolvey pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'll start with the basics, then. When a man and a woman love each other very much- no, no. When a man and another man-" he stops himself again, a look of horror on his face.

"Think of it as practice for if one of your kids turns out gay." Laurence suggests. "Law of averages says-"

"Yes, thank you for your input. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Although I do wonder about Arthur-" he shakes his head, as if to clear it, and changes the subject. "You're making this far too complicated." Woolvey says bluntly, although perhaps a little slurred. "Ask him for coffee. Wiggle your eyebrows a bit when you do it, maybe. Wear those yoga pants that the ladies in Edie's class keep bloody talking about when they're over for tea. Give him some damn cinnamon rolls, and have them spell out DATE ME or just put it on a card, for God's sake. Make sure you sign the card, I forgot to the first time with Edie."

"They talk about my pants?"

Woolvey slumps in his chair. "Give us another drink, then." Laurence peers mournfully at the bottle. Woolvey says, "Oi, you useless lump, you drank all the whiskey too?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok so here it qualifies for the rating!

"I'll find your coat." Laurence says, a little quickly. 

In the entranceway, Tharkay frowns a little when Laurence hands him his coat. His and Arkady's are the only ones hanging up, easy to find. 

Laurence licks his lips, sees Tharkay tracking the motion. He takes it as permission and crowds him a little, dipping his head in and lingering in invitation, a few inches away. 

Tharkay closes the distance, almost a little tentative. Laurence has to lean down and he can see Tharkay lifting up on his toes to reach. 

His lips are warm against Laurence, just a little dry. He hums and pushes up, a firm pressure against Laurence, a hand sliding up Laurence's arm as he licks against the seam of Laurence's lips. Laurence parts his lips greedily as Tharkay licks inside, hot and wet. 

"Papa?" Arkady says, voice disconcertingly near. 

They break apart, Tharkay keeping his hand on Laurence's upper arm, as if to keep him there. "Yes? Tharkay says, his voice a low rasp. Laurence loves the sound. 

Arkady is in the front room, about two meters away. "Papa? He says again, a little uncertain. "The movie is over. Should we go?"

Tharkay's grip tenses, and then relaxes. "Perhaps that is a good idea." He says, disappointingly. But he makes up for it by saying, "Next Saturday we are available, if Mr. Laurence and Temeraire want to spend time with us again."

Laurence's mouth is horridly dry, and he licks his lips. He sees Tharkay noticing again, and smiles. "Of course. We can make arrangements after class, if you like?" 

Tharkay nods, removing his hand. Arkady shouts, "We are coming over next week!" And runs back to Temeraire. Laurence can faintly hear him say to Temeraire, "You're reading another book?" 

Laurence looks back at Tharkay. "Saturday next?" He says, a little pleading. 

Tharkay nods, a smile in his dark eyes, and promises, "Saturday next." 

 

 

Laurence kisses him, unable to stop himself. The boys are safely watching their movie, the sound turned all the way up and in the basement. Laurence hopes it's enough distraction for a few stolen minutes. 

Tharkay sets the popcorn bowl down on the kitchen counter and kisses him back thoroughly, delightfully warm. Laurence risks putting his hands on Tharkay's waist. Tharkay slides closer in invitation, and Laurence pulls him until their hips are flush. He can feel a shudder go through Tharkay, when he can feel how aroused Laurence already is.

Tharkay pulls back just enough to say, "Where is your-"

"The bedroom is upstairs." Laurence says in a rush, "If that's alright with you." He tacks on, unwilling to pressure him. 

Tharkay's eyes go darker, even in the limited light of the kitchen. "That's just fine." 

Laurence hustles him upstairs, elated. The bedroom light is bright when he flicks it on, in contrast to the dark house. He locks the door and turns around to find Tharkay already insinuating himself into Laurence's space, pushing him up against the door. The doorknob pokes him a little bit in the back and he shifts over. Tharkay's hands come up around Laurence's ribs and keep him there. 

Tharkay kisses him again, confident and greedy. Laurence can't help but whine in the back of his throat, scrabbling to pull him closer. Tharkay pushes up against him until they are flush with each other again, and this time Laurence can feel how aroused Tharkay is too. Tharkay moves against him, a slow thrust that makes the door shudder in its hinges. 

Tharkay smells like cloves and ozone. Laurence wants to bury his nose in Tharkay's skin and inhale. 

But first, he has other plans. "Please," he manages to gasp against Tharkay's mouth, "Please let me blow you." 

Tharkay hums, hands pulling at Laurence's shirt, pulling the hems out of his pants so Tharkay can slide hot fingers along Laurence's sides. "In a moment." He whispers against Laurence's lips, undoing his belt. 

Laurence whimpers and says again, "I really do want to blow you. I've- I've thought about it. When we were in class." 

Tharkay is still working at the fastening of Laurence's pants, but he can see how interested he is. "What else have you thought about?" He asks, each word a warm puff on Laurence's face. 

Laurence can feel his cheeks go a little warm, and he regrets turning on the light now, since Tharkay will be able to see. "I've thought about touching you during class, during yoga nidra." Tharkay finishes Laurence's pants and moves on to his own. "I would- I would sit right next to you and blow you, and you'd have to be quiet, or everyone would know-" Tharkay gives an interested sound at that, and leans forward again so that he can thrust against Laurence, skin to skin. 

Laurence likes it, eyes rolling back in his skull, as Tharkay gives another forceful roll of his hips. Tharkay captures his lips again and it's almost what Laurence wants, heat building up in his abdomen. 

"Please." Laurence says again, "I'm going to come like this if you keep doing that, please let me blow you-" 

Tharkay steps back, a wry little smile on his lips. "Well, how could I say no?" 

Laurence pushes at him a little till he lies on the floor on his back on the floor, stepping out of his own pants awkwardly and pulling up his shirt. He pulls Tharkay's pants down to his knees to restrict his movement, just a little, just enough to inflame his mind about pinning Tharkay down. 

Next time, he promises himself inside his head, he's going to hold him down properly. 

Tharkay wriggles a little as Laurence settles himself next to his knees, pinioning him down with a leg between his knees. Tharkay's breath is coming faster now, irregular pants of air. Laurence hasn't even gotten started, and he savors it, dipping down to nose along the crease of Tharkay's pelvis, inhaling his scent. 

Laurence leans over Tharkay, eliciting a disappointed whimper. He fumbles in a bedside drawer for lube and a condom, box still unopened. His fingers are sure when they tear the little foil square, pinching the tip to make a vacuum and unrolling it down Tharkay's cock. Tharkay's dark eyes regard him steadily as Laurence bites his lip in concentration. 

When the condom is on to his satisfaction, Laurence holds it down with one hand at the base. He gently sucks in Tharkay's cock, mouth watering at the girth. He dislikes the taste, missing the scent of Tharkay's skin, but he knows it's necessary. 

Laurence swallows around him, getting as tight suction as he can. Tharkay gasps, just a little, knees bending and hands coming up to grip Laurence's skull. Laurence loves the reaction, backs up and sinks down again, eliciting it again. 

He smooths down the roll of the condom on the base, making a ring with his hand that works with his mouth and keeps the condom in place. Laurence tries to keep his saliva mostly in his mouth, but otherwise loses himself in the drag of Tharkay's cock on his tongue, the small noises he pulls out of him. 

Tharkay is very quiet. Laurence appreciates the discretion with the boys downstairs, but he wants to hear him more. He knows he will probably have to wait until he can get the house to themselves until he gets the chance. 

By then maybe he will have had an opportunity to trade medical histories, and he won't need the condoms any more. Laurence feels his mouth water a little more at thinking of Tharkay fucking his mouth, inhaling his scent without the chemical smell of lube and latex. 

Or maybe by then he will have persuaded Tharkay to fuck him. He thinks about it dreamily as he works hard to draw out every noise and reaction he can get. Tharkay would fuck him so good, he knows it. He'd give it to him deep and fast, if Laurence begged for it enough. 

Tharkay likes it when he tugs a little at his sac, and drags his tongue along the underside of his cock. Laurence gets a little whimper every time he starts at the tip and pulls him into his mouth. 

He stores everything away for later, to take him apart more thoroughly. Right now is just quick and brutal, a few stolen moments before Laurence has to go and be a responsible adult again. Laurence can see Tharkay's skin flushing, just as Tharkay exhales and starts to come. 

Laurence wants him to come in his mouth next time. He wants him to come all over his face, mark him all up. But he knows he has to wait, so instead he just mouths at Tharkay through the condom. 

Tharkay just gasps for a few moments as he stares up at the ceiling. He says something in an unfamiliar language, and throws an arm over his face to cover his eyes. "Just a moment." He says finally. Laurence pulls off the condom, careful to try and keep the semen off his hands, and goes to the bathroom to throw it away and wash his hands. 

When he returns, Tharkay seems almost asleep, lying on the carpet. His shirt is pushed up, pants still tangled around his knees. His stomach is slick with sweat and what come had escaped the condom. 

Laurence wants to lick him all over. 

He wends his way up to hang over Tharkay, bracketing his hips with his knees and boxing in his shoulders. Tharkay lifts his arm enough to peer at Laurence, almost shy. "I don't really like to bottom-" he starts, and Laurence kisses him, nips at his lips and licks his way in.

"It's fine, because I really do." Laurence says, backing off a little, just enough to speak. "I wanted- maybe your hand- or I could do it-"

Tharkay reaches up and runs a finger along Laurence's cock. His eyes nearly roll at how good it feels to be touched by someone else. "Do you have lube?" Tharkay asks, encircling the base.

Laurence goes back to grab it, spilling it all over in his haste to get the cap open. Tharkay slicks up his hand and Laurence is in heaven. He can feel his orgasm collecting itself, his skin prickling with anticipation. 

He moans helplessly as Tharkay works him, long fingers confident and sure, and he comes, a little too quickly for dignity. It rushes through him in grateful pulses as Tharkay hisses in his ear, "Good."


	6. Chapter 6

Laurence barely makes it through the week. He gets a couple of returned texts from Tharkay. Granby laughs at him as he watches Laurence scramble for his phone at the text chime. He thinks Granby tells Edith, because she takes to texting him more often than usual. 

The texts Tharkay sends are disappointingly brief. Laurence agonizes over every reply he has to write, so probably Tharkay is doing the same. 

"What do you think I should wear on Saturday?" He asks, leaning over the front store desk and idly playing with a stand of prayer beads. 

There is one last class in the back studio, a few minutes from being done. Granby is closing the cash register, frowning a little at the receipts. He waves a bank note vaguely. "Oh, blue. You know it offsets your eyes. Will, did you make the deposit yesterday?" 

Laurence lifts a shoulder. "No, I think Catherine did." 

Granby sorts through the receipts again. "Oh, there it is. What are you planning on?"

"I was thinking the zoo. The weatherman says it'll be awful weather, but they have that rain forest exhibit to run around in. We can have the boys play." He coughs, a little surreptitiously. "And then maybe go over to my place. I just gave Temeraire a new video game, he thought Arkady might play it with him." 

Granby looks up at him and grins, sly. "Ooh, he's coming over and the boys will be distracted? I get to have the safer sex talk with you, then." He leans over the counter, laying a condescending hand on Laurence's forearm. "When a man and another man love each other very much-"

Laurence shakes his hand off. "Enough, enough. I am older than you." 

"I'm looking out for your best interests! It's been a long time for you. Things have changed since the Pleistocene era." Laurence rubs at his forehead. Granby says earnestly, "I have lots of extra condoms, oh and you've probably let your lube expire too-" 

"We've already had sex, thank you very much, and we used condoms!" Laurence hisses defensively. 

Granby looks behind him. "Oh, Principal Roland!" 

Laurence glares at him. Granby just smirks. "I'm joking, Will. Although the last class should be getting out in a minute or so, do keep your voice down when you're talking about having sex. You think me talking to you about safer sex is terrible, she gave me my lecture back in 1996. I still have scars."

"I'm not talking about me having sex, you're talking about me having sex, and I'm reluctantly listening." Laurence corrects. 

He can hear her before he sees her. "Jolly good, Will. You're with someone, eh?" She slaps his shoulder, leaning into him a little. "Ah, John, good to see you." Granby smirks and wiggles his fingers. "Have you reminded him about rubbers, then? It's been a while, I'm sure they're expired-" 

Laurence wishes he were anywhere but here. "Excuse me, I have to go home and put Temeraire to bed." He escapes with a minimum of dignity. 

"Wear your blue shirt, it brings out your eyes." Roland calls after him. 

 

Tharkay herds him upstairs as soon as Arkady and Temeraire are safely involved in their game with headphones on. Laurence is still annoyed, but he stuffs it down. 

Tharkay's kisses are satisfyingly deep, his fingers bruisingly firm on Laurence's hips. Laurence arches into it. He's been waiting all week. 

Laurence coaxes him to the bed, scrambling through the bedside table drawer one handed. Tharkay pulls back enough to say, "I don't like to bottom-" and Laurence nods. 

"I remember," he says as he pushes Tharkay gently down on the mattress, "But I do. We don't have very long, we can do something else, but if you- if you wouldn't mind-" he always has a hard time saying it. 

Jane had just laughed at his stutters, then pulled up a website and asked his opinion on the harness she should buy. 

Tharkay looks to the side, flares his nostrils. "If I wouldn't mind." He mutters, almost to himself. "What, Laurence, if I wouldn't mind fucking you?" Laurence breathes a little faster at that, thrusting against Tharkay's hip raggedly. 

"Yes." He manages to say. "Please. I've thought about it." He thrusts again. They are still wearing all their clothes, so he can't get to the skin he wants. 

Tharkay makes a low animal noise in his throat and grabs for the lube. He pushes Laurence over to the center of the bed, pulling off his trousers impatiently. He barely unbuttons his own before slicking up Laurence's arse. 

Laurence rolls on his back and opens his legs in invitation. "You should come with a warning." Tharkay says, fingers uncomfortably cold from the lube as he circles his entrance. Tharkay sees his face and rubs his fingers together to warm them up. "Is that better?" He asks, and Laurence nods, and he ventures a fingertip inside. 

Tharkay kisses Laurence again, slow and full, and it's everything Laurence thought of. Tharkay opens him up, maddeningly slow, even when Laurence wiggles his hips. He tastes like clove and peppermint, dark and sweet, and he smells like fresh sweat and arousal. 

Laurence knows they don't have much time, but he decides to enjoy this, enjoy being worked open and kissed. His legs lift up and encircle Tharkay's slender waist, heels digging just a little into his sides. 

Once he's gotten Laurence open enough and Laurence is a mewling mess on the bed, Tharkay rolls on a condom and pushes in. 

The slow agonizing slide is exactly what Laurence had wanted. He tips his chin up, tendons standing out of his neck, and Tharkay licks the line of his neck. Laurence shudders. 

Tharkay's weight presses deliciously into him when he bottoms out. He sets a slow pace of deep thrusts that make Laurence scrabble desperately at Tharkay's shoulders. "I'm going to give it to you, and you're going to like it." Tharkay says, breathing gone ragged. 

Laurence reaches a hand down to jerk himself of. He only gets a few surreptitious pulls before Tharkay buries himself in him, brutally deep, and bites his shoulder hard enough to make Laurence gasp. "I'm going to do that." He says, and Laurence curls his toes. "You just take what I'm going to give you." Laurence licks his lips, meets Tharkay's eyes. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated wide, and so intent that it makes Laurence shiver. 

He moves Laurence's hand away, loosely encircling his cock with a lube slick hand. Laurence moves, just enough to shift him inside. Tharkay pulls out, still watching Laurence's face, and then thrusts back in. He must like what he sees, because he gives a rare smile and a long stroke of Laurence's cock.

Laurence's eyes roll a little, it feels so good. "You like that." Tharkay says, almost as if marking it for later. "What else do you like?" His hand is moving faster now, his hips a sharp counterpoint. "You like sucking me off?" Laurence nods, feeling his scalp prickle and his stomach tighten in anticipation. "You like me coming down your throat? You like my cock inside you, fucking you so nice and deep?" Laurence almost howls when Tharkay changes his angle enough to hit his prostate, the drag of it along it torturously good. Tharkay muffles him with his free hand. "The boys are downstairs. You don't want them hearing you get fucked, do you?" Laurence shakes his head. He is feeling increasingly light, his impending orgasm creating like a wave. "I'm the only one who gets to hear you get fucked." Tharkay hisses, shallowly hitting the same spot over and over. "I want to hear you come, now do it for me."

His breath rushes through him as his muscles spasm and jerk, pulling Tharkay closer in. Sparkles burst around his vision and it seems to go on and on as Tharkay fucks him through it, pushing him higher and higher on each crest of it until he curls up on himself.

When Laurence is coherent enough to think again, he looks at Tharkay. His eyes are mostly shut, movements erratic and ragged, and Laurence realizes that he must be close. Laurence wiggles his hips, opening himself up and presenting himself. Tharkay buries his face in Laurence's neck as he comes. Laurence can feel the pulses inside of him, and can't wait until he can feel it without a condom. Tharkay shudders and gasps through his own orgasm, still hiding his face. 

Laurence runs his fingers through Tharkay's hair, rubbing the pads along his scalp and back of his neck as Tharkay slumps against him, little aftershocks rippling through his body when he weakly tries to get deeper into Laurence again. 

Laurence smiles, thinking about the rest of the week. He has a little free time on Tuesday, he'll see if he can squeeze Tharkay in, and of course his mother is coming into town too soon. 

Tharkay's breath evens out, and he slowly pushes his face deeper into the curve of Laurence's neck. He snuffles, just a little bit, then hums in satisfaction. 

"Are you going to sleep?" Laurence asks mildly. 

After an unconvincing long pause, he says drowsily, "No." Laurence huffs out a laugh and reaches down to where his softening cock is still inside him. He holds the bottom roll of the condom in place as he pulls away, wincing a little at the sensation. 

He pushes Tharkay off to stand up and dispose of the condom. He cleans himself off in the bathroom, grinning at his pink cheeks and messed up hair in the mirror. His shoulder is going to have a pretty spectacular bruise tomorrow, in the exact shape of Tharkay's teeth. 

His cheeks hurt from smiling.

When he comes back to bed, Tharkay has barely moved from where Laurence put him. His breathing is deep and slow, eyelids gently closed. "I think you're asleep." Laurence says, sliding a hand down Tharkay's side. He doesn't respond. Laurence looks at the circles under his eyes, the slightly too long fringe over his eyes, and decides he's probably been doing too much lately. Laurence will let him sleep for a little. 

He changes his shirt, now hopelessly wrinkled and stained, and slides into pyjama pants. He flicks off the light. Tharkay doesn't even stir.

He goes down and checks on the boys, who are wonderfully oblivious with their huge headphones. Laurence refills their popcorn and gets them more water. He nearly runs back upstairs, hoping for a nice long cuddle. 

Tharkay is still asleep when he returns. He's moved onto his back, but is otherwise unchanged. 

Laurence slides back into bed, but the movement wakes Tharkay up. He sits up and yawns, scratching at his belly. His shirt is still on, and he pulls it back down, even though 

"Oh, and my mother's visiting on Saturday, she's taking Temeraire out for an afternoon mystery trip. But she said she'd come out to the market in the morning, if you wanted to stop by and meet her. And then," he licks his lips, "We would have the house free." 

Tharkay hums noncommittally. "Why would I want to meet your mother?"

Laurence pauses, and says, "I thought she'd like to meet you?" 

Tharkay stands up to button up his trousers. "No, I mean, why would I want to meet your mother?"

Laurence looks over as he buttons up his collar. "I thought you'd like to meet her?" 

Tharkay snorts at this. "I'm not the type to bring home to mother." He flicks his fringe out of his eyes. 

Laurence frowns. "We haven't had the terms conversation yet, but I thought-" he trails off. He dislikes most of them. Edie always made fun of him trying to hold on to the word gentleman friend. 

"You'd bring your fuck buddy over to meet your mother?" Tharkay says, and Laurence almost snaps language at him. 

Laurence lifts up his shoulders in shock as soon as he actually hears what he said. "No." He hisses. "I don't do- that- and you're my-" at Tharkay's incredulous face, he says with horror, "You thought this was- a hookup?" 

Tharkay finishes doing up his shirt and tucks it in. "Of course. What else would you want?" 

Laurence gapes for a moment. "I don't do that." 

Tharkay retrieves his socks. "So you've said. But it's all I do."

It's the lack of reaction that makes Laurence go stiff and cold. "You can gather up your things and leave." He snaps. 

"Well, let me get Arkady, and we will be out of your hair for good." Tharkay steps out and closes the door. 

Laurence feels heat start on his ears as he stares at the wall. Cravenly, he waits until he hears the front door close before venturing downstairs.

Temeraire is happy enough to abandon the video game now that Arkady is gone, and read a history book. Laurence doesn't know if he fools him entirely, but he manages to make it through Temeraire's bedtime without any major betrayals. When Temeraire is safely asleep, he locks himself in his room and shakily texts Edith. She calls almost immediately. 

"That rat bastard." She says as soon as he picks up. "I'll have his head for this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHA WELL THEY DO KIND OF BREAK UP IN BLACK POWDER WAR BEFORE THE FOUNTAIN SCENE


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK SO WHAT IF INSTEAD OF FERALS IT WAS CAKE.
> 
> I'M JUST SAYING

Laurence runs a hand through his hair. "This is a disaster." He hisses. 

Edith flares her nostrils. "I know that, Will. God, all of them. We'll have to reschedule the bake sale."

"The night of the bake sale, though?" Laurence asks in disbelief. 

"I can run out to Tesco and buy out their bakery-" Granby starts, only to meet with identical shocked stares. 

Edith purses her lips. "They'd notice, and we'd have to hear about it for years and years. No. We can sell what Bonaparte brought, and then reschedule our portion next week. Will, go get a sign and a marker-" 

A polite cough breaks in. Laurence recognizes it with a dull sinking sensation in his gut, and turns around to see Tharkay. "If I could offer my assistance?" Tharkay says. 

He looks lovely. The jammy bugger, Laurence thinks. His hair is disheveled elegantly by the winter wind and a scarf winds around his neck. 

Laurence can't decide if he wants to strangle him with it, or use it to hold him in place when he kisses him.

Either way, his palms itch. 

Laurence pastes a smile on, although he knows it won't fool Edith. He says, with his best imitation of his mother addressing the town drunk, "Yes? So good to see you."

"I brought cake." He sees Tharkay's grip whiten around a cardboard box in his hands, although Tharkay's face is as blank as ever. "For the bake sale." He adds, a little unnecessarily. 

Edith steps forward, a hand gently resting on Laurence's arm. "Thank you, but I'm afraid we just accidentally dumped nearly all of our bake sale in the snowy mud, so we are going to have to reschedule. If you would be so kind as to set it out by Bonaparte's-"

"I brought a lot of cake." Tharkay interrupts. Laurence can see Arkady wheeling in another stack of cardboard boxes on a trolley. 

"How- how much cake?" Edith says, a little faint. 

Tharkay looks up to the ceiling. "I think I made twenty."

Granby goes over and peers inside the box Tharkay is holding, and whistles. "And then you divided them up into portions, too." He looks up at Laurence. "Will, this might be enough to get through tonight." 

"What kind of cake?" Edith asks. 

Tharkay twists his lips. "I'm not sure. Arkady went around and asked our neighbors for extra ingredients when we would run out. Some are apple, vanilla, and chocolate, and I might have made some apple vanilla chocolate ones. Some might be brownies. It was hard to keep track." 

Edith stares at Tharkay for a moment, and then looks at Laurence. He can't quite handle meeting her eyes right then, so he ducks out of her gentle hold on his arm and goes over to Arkady to help unload. "You're too kind." Laurence says as he passes. He catches a whiff from his skin, clove and spice, but keeps walking. 

Tharkay mercifully does not respond, and Laurence busies himself with arranging the cake on the tables. He greets Arkady with a weak "Hullo, and thank you." It's not Arkady's fault, so he tries to be as friendly as he can. 

Arkady looks up at him, a sly expression on his face. With the port wine stain, it gives him the look of a pirate. "Yes?" Laurence prompts, hands lifting a box. "How are you keeping these days?" 

Arkady kicks him in the shin, and runs off. 

Laurence tries to muffle his yelp, but some hisses out between his teeth. He hears Tharkay say, "Arkady! Come over here, right now! Will, are you-" 

Edith cuts in and Granby thankfully steps over, taking the box from Laurence so he doesn't drop it. "Edie's distracting him." Granby mutters. "Make your escape, I see Bonaparte coming over too."

Laurence risks a glance up and sees Edith slowly escorting Tharkay out. Arkady is being gripped on his shoulder firmly by his father. Bonaparte is walking over, but Laurence feels up to dealing with this test of resolve.

With one final rub at his shin, he straightens up. "Bonaparte." 

Granby interests himself with unloading more cake. He made an attempt to let Laurence out of it, so he hides. "Captain!" Bonaparte exclaims. "I had heard you had a misfortune with your cakes! But I see plenty of cake. Was I misinformed?" 

Laurence says, "We had a last minute sponsor donate a large quantity." 

Bonaparte smiles. "Ah, Captain, so lucky! I was going to offer my cinnamon rolls and some extra honey cake that Lien had made, but I see that you are quite settled. Well, I will take my leave of you, and wish you good luck for the rest of the sale!" He slaps Laurence on the back, and Laurence wonders when this night is going to end.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this scene deals with the labor of Edith's youngest. Nothing explicit, the birth is offscreen, it's all nondramatic and nontraumatic and no babies are ever in danger of anything. And you're welcome to skip to the end when it's all cute baby.

Edith takes a deep breath, and then another, closing her eyes. "Edie?" Laurence says. She doesn't respond, but she does hum a little, shifting her weight. 

After several long moments, she opens her eyes again. "Ooh, that was a good one. Will, get out my phone, there's an app- ah yes, there. Good." 

They keep baking bread. Laurence does the washing up from breakfast and last night's dinner, keeping an eye on Edith. Ever so often, she'll tap on her phone, close her eyes and sway. After an indeterminate period of time she opens her eyes again and taps at her phone. 

Laurence is pretty sure they are getting longer and closer together, but he doesn't venture an opinion. 

After the first rise, he punches down the dough. Edith has a stronger one then, giving a high pitched gasp and then a low deep hum that stretches on for nearly a minute. He watches her, and gently takes her phone to time the contraction with floury hands. 

When she opens her eyes, he ends the contraction timer and says quietly, "Should I ring Woolvey?" 

She nods, rubbing her belly. "Yes, and Mrs. Pemberton too. I probably have another few hours. Do you mind if I take a bath?" 

Laurence shakes his head. "Let me finish this. I'll make some calls." 

He calls from Edith's phone as she slowly makes her way to the bath. "No, no, it's Laurence." He says before Woolvey has a chance to say anything. "Edith's fine, she's just in labor." He says as he kneads. "Yes, she told me to call her. She's not far away, right? Good. Yes. I'll tell her." 

He disconnects and then finds Mrs. Pemberton's number in Edith's favorites. "It's not Edith, it's her friend Will." He says. He's met her once or twice when she comes to do checkups on Edith. "She can't talk through the contractions. Yes, she's in the bath." He reaches for the towel, dampens it a little and oils the bowl again. "Alright, forty five minutes? Thank you. The kids will be in school until three. I'll tell her. Thank you." He slides the dough back in the bowl, covers it, and puts it in the warm oven. He wipes the phone off with an edge of the towel to get some of the flour off, and turns the ringer up. 

"Edie?" He calls as he knocks on the door. It's cracked open. He can hear her humming, even deeper again. "Mrs. Pemberton says she's about forty five minutes away, but she can have her assistant come out to set up the tub. Woolvey will be home in thirty minutes." 

Edith stops humming and takes a couple deep breaths. "Thank you, Will. Do come in, I'm wearing a shirt." 

He steps into the warm bathroom, steam on the mirror. Edith's top is soaked, pushed up so that she can pour water on her distended belly. "Hey." He says gently as he crouches down on the tile. 

"Hey." She says, smiling gently. She reaches out and holds his hand. He rubs a thumb across the back of her hand. "Do you think this is a boy or a girl? Last chance to get your bet in." 

Laurence smiles back. "I think it's a boy. Arthur and James want the scales tipped in their favor, you know." 

Her grip turns firmer as she groans, vibrating deep in her chest. Laurence holds her hand tightly. He reaches over to take the cup from her limp fingers to pour fresh warm water. He mutters soothing nonsense and grabs the lavender oil, twisting open the cap one handed to sprinkle a few more drops in. 

Laurence loses himself, watching Edith patiently. He goes to grab towels between contractions so he can fold them on the floor and sit next to her more comfortably. He's never been this far along with her labors, usually supplanted by Woolvey, and he appreciates it. 

She comes out of another contraction and asks for tea. Laurence puts the kettle on and busies himself with getting her dried off and dry clothes on. 

The kettle whistles, and there's a knock on the door. He attends to both, ushering in young Emily and making tea. Edith settles in the couch in the living room as Emily starts inflating the tub. Laurence brings in the tea, offering Emily a cup and making Edith's. 

Edith walks through her contractions, then, lifting up her arms to hang off Laurence's neck as he rubs at her back. She's just returned to the couch and is sipping tea when the back door opens. 

Woolvey comes in, breathing a little fast. "Are you alright, darling?" He asks, sitting next to Edith. 

Laurence decides to go check on the bread. To his eternal amusement, Woolvey had forgotten to shut the door entirely, and a cold draft is flowing. He shuts the door securely. 

He decides to make sandwiches for luncheon, and he busies himself in the kitchen. Mrs. Pemberton arrives with a big bag. "Oh, hullo again, Will. So good to see you." 

"Ah, yes, good to see you too." Laurence says, gesturing to the counter. "Are you hungry?" 

She unwinds her scarf. "Oh, yes please. My last meal was at a four am birth and I'm famished. Let me just go in and check on Edith and the baby." 

He sets up a tray of sandwiches and brings it into the living room. Edith is taking another sip of tea as Mrs. Pemberton listens with her fetoscope. "Good heart rate." She says approvingly, taking the little trumpet off her belly. "As this is your fifth, I think I'll let you take it from here, Edith. Do you want to get in the tub?" 

Laurence checks the time, and murmurs to Woolvey, "Would you like me to pick up the children when I get Temeraire?" 

Woolvey looks up at him. "Oh, yes, thank you. We can see how close we are by then. You could either bring them all back here if the baby's here, or keep them at your house." 

Laurence gets the bread done, ducking in and out of the front room. He makes sure Emily and Mrs. Pemberton have enough to eat, although Woolvey says he ate at the office. Edith is deep into labor when he leaves, hardly having any time between contractions. 

His phone goes off when he's pulling into the waiting line at the school. It's a text from Woolvey, that just says bring all the kids to my house. baby's here. 

Laurence can't help but smile. 

 

The kids rush out of his car when he's still in the drive. "Temeraire!" He shouts through the window. "Make sure everyone washes their hands before touching the baby!" 

Temeraire raises a hand in acknowledgement as Laurence pulls in the rest of the way. 

He walks into controlled chaos. "Uncle Will! Uncle Will!" Eliza says, pulling at his coat. "I have another brother!" 

He picks her up and twirls her. "Oh yes? It's good you've already been a big sister before. You'll have to show Rose how it's done." She giggles when he tickles her and sets her down, running to the front room. 

He can hear Temeraire saying importantly, "Wash your hands!" 

Mrs. Pemberton says equably, "Thank you for the reminder, young man. And then we will weigh him, eh? Can't have a birth without weighing the baby, they would take away my license." She bustles into the kitchen, turning the faucet on and washing her hands. She sees Laurence and brightens. "Oh, good. You're here. Go in and say hullo to the new baby." 

Edith is lying on the couch, which has been liberally covered in towels. Her skirt is back on, Laurence notes, and a small red baby is nestled securely next to her in the crook of her arm. Temeraire is hovering importantly by her head, holding an economy sized bottle of hand sanitizer.

Woolvey is settled underneath her legs, Arthur on the arm of the couch at her feet. 

"He looks like Winston Churchill." Laurence whispers, crouching down next to her. The baby is asleep, wrinkled face relaxed. 

Edith slits an eye open. "You say that about all my babies, Will."

"It is true, though." Woolvey says. 

Edith opens both of her eyes, resettles herself. "We wanted to name the baby William." 

Laurence kisses her on the cheek, and looks up at Woolvey. "Really?" He asks. 

Woolvey shrugs. "It was my grandfather's name. And," a pained expression crosses his face, but then he smiles, "we do like you. Not much, mind." He adds. 

Laurence laughs, says "Thank you," his heart bubbling over. He goes to kiss the baby, but Temeraire blocks him with the hand sanitizer. "Alright, alright." He says, holding out his hands for Temeraire to wash them. He can at least rub baby William's forehead with the pad of his finger.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short fountain scene because I just love the actual fountain scene so. So much. I couldn't really write much of this? Very snippet, not much fleshed out.

"I want to talk to you." Laurence says. 

Tharkay looks at him for a moment, dark eyes indifferent. "I don't need to." 

"Well, I do." Laurence snaps. Tharkay sets his glass down on the edge of the fountain and shrugs. 

"Fine, I suppose. Although if you don't, it won't bother me."

Laurence resists the urge to cross his arms. "I'd like to know why you shut me out." Tharkay just looks at him. "I thought we were dating." Laurence says. "Not just-" he still can't say it. "I thought we were friends. That our kids were friends." He says, trying for another tack. 

Tharkay shrugs. "Arkady and I are used to being judged and found wanting. Neither of us are quite English enough for the English to accept us. I would prefer to be not trusted to my face, rather than endure endless whispers behind my back. It's Arkady and I, and then everyone else." He flicks his fingers in dismissal. 

"But I don't think like that." Laurence protests. "No one that I'm close to does, either. And as a single father, don't you think I know what it's like? To have you and your son, and everyone on the other side judging you?" Laurence stops, deep breathes for a moment. He can see Tharkay looking at him, eyes more interested and aware than he thinks he's see him before. 

"So many people have told me that I shouldn't have Temeraire." Laurence continues, words slow and deliberate. "But he chose me, and I chose him. And I would take that over anything they could offer me." Tharkay doesn't respond, but spots of color are in his cheeks. 

Laurence holds out his hand. "Welcome to the neighborhood." He says. "I hope you and your son will find good friends here." 

Tharkay reaches out and grips his hand, and there is nothing uncertain in it. "Thank you." He says, briefly, and turns away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edith is pretty straightforward, much like Laurence. Except she doesn't embarrass easily. 
> 
> Also, I took canon Temeraire's cosseting of eggs and transmuted it into babies.

The weather is just starting to warm up, sun peeking from behind the clouds, when Edith tells the kids to put on coats. "We are going to the park. James, put that book down. Arthur, trousers too, or so help me. Temeraire, help me with William, please." 

They bundle them all up and shove them in the van, Temeraire expressing concern about the baby's hat being insufficiently warm the whole ride. "But we really should have put on the one with earflaps, Auntie." He says earnestly as the doors slide open. 

Edith flaps a hand at him. "He's going in the sling anyway, but you can switch them out, I saw you hiding it." 

Temeraire brings it out from where he had hidden it inside his coat. Laurence notes a novel that he has in there too. "It makes him look like a little pig." He says in satisfaction, snugging it on the baby's head as Laurence puts on the sling. The girls have already run screaming out of the van toward the trees, Arthur singing a song about rainbows. 

Laurence wonders, not for the first time, if Temeraire wants a little brother. He's taken to William like a mother hen, loudly telling people at the shops he has a new baby cousin. 

Temeraire's own adoption was such a fraught accidental thing, Laurence doesn't know if he even could adopt again. And while they have enough to get by, it's not lucrative to have the yoga studio and the farm. A surrogacy is out of the question. 

He hopes that it's enough for Temeraire to be surrounded by cousins. Watching Temeraire watching Laurence to make sure he puts the baby in the carrier right, he thinks so. He kisses Temeraire then, a quick peck on the cheek, and Temeraire smiles back at him. "I love you." He tells him, and Temeraire pats him.

"I love you too. Did you wash your hands before you touched the baby? I forgot to ask earlier." 

Laurence nods dutifully. Temeraire obviously feels his duty is done, and follows the other children. "Leave that book, young man." Laurence says, and with a guilty look Temeraire turns around and surrenders it, then dashes off to find the others. 

He stretches his legs, a gentle hand on baby William as he sleeps. Edith has already walked up to the playground, and is talking with another mum. 

The girls are up in a tree, Arthur trying to poke at them with a long stick. James is watching disapprovingly from Edith's side, hands on his hips in a pose that strongly reminds Laurence of Edith. 

Laurence turns his face to the sun, closing his eyes and soaking it in for long moments. He feels- content. 

Even the sight of Tharkay's car in the lot doesn't perturb him. They have reached a tentative detente, nodding at each other in the hallways. Tharkay comes to his yoga class occasionally, lurking in the back like he thinks Laurence won't see him there. He's come to Granby's class too, and Laurence caught Granby talking to him once in the parking lot. Laurence could only see them through the window, and he ducked back in the office before they noticed him. 

Temeraire still talks about practicing his French with Arkady at school. The bake sale is coming up again soon, Laurence realizes. He wonders if Tharkay will make cake again, and if he will have a pretext for talking to him. His heart beats a little faster at the thought, and Laurence shakes his head at his traitorous self. 

Laurence doesn't see him or Arkady on the playground, but they might be walking the paths. He goes up to Edith, baby William blissfully asleep still in the sling. 

"Oh, and hello." The other mum says as he walks up to Edith, eyes flicking down Laurence to the sling and then back up, drawing out the last syllable. 

"This is my friend William, and William, this is Mary. She works with Bertie." Edith says, pulling her hair back out of her eyes. 

"Ah, so this is your best friend, Edith." Her voice changes, becomes more friendly. "How do you do." 

Laurence nods. "How do you do." Something about it makes him uncomfortable, so he distracts himself with adjusting the baby and checking for Temeraire. "Edie, have you seen Temeraire?" He asks. 

Edith points. "He's up in that tree. I thought I told him no books."

Laurence squints up and sees that Temeraire has climbed higher than the girls, out of poking range by Arthur who is looking disappointed, and settled himself triumphantly in with a book. 

"He must have given me a decoy book." Laurence is a little proud of his son's ability to strategize. 

James says plaintively, "I would have brought a book too, if I knew they were allowed. Mum, can I have a book?" 

Edith twists her lips but rummages in her purse for the one she had taken off him earlier. "At least they're outside." She says, almost to herself. James bears the book off to sit on the bench closest to Edith. 

Mary laughs a little. "It was good to see you, Edith, I hope I'll see you around the office again. Do tell Bertram to stop working so hard. And William, it was nice to meet you." She smiles as she says the last. "I see I'll have to take in a yoga class. Edith has been telling me to, but I don't think I properly understood." Edith laughs a little at that, puzzlingly. Mary collects her daughter and walks to the car park.

Arthur has given up his annoyance of the girls and comes back to the playground, swinging a stick and pretending to be a tiger.

With mingled anticipation and dread, Laurence sees Arkady run out from the trees, stopping below where Temeraire is perched. They are a little too far away to hear what they say, but he can see Arkady craning his head up to talk to Temeraire. 

"Oh, Will, go be a dear and fetch the snacks." Edith says, a little transparent. Laurence thinks about it for a moment, wavering. 

Tharkay's dark head emerges from the paths behind the trees as he stands next to Arkady, a hand on his shoulder.

Maybe it's better to politely dodge him. He goes back to the van, purposefully dawdling a little and taking extra care with the baby. He sees Edith walking toward Tharkay, and pauses.

He lingers by the van, putting juiceboxes and string cheese in a bag. Through the windows of the van, he can see them talking. Arkady is rapidly climbing the tree, hooting at Eliza and Rose. 

Edith doesn't look like she's lecturing, though. Only one hand is on her hip. 

She reaches out and puts a hand on Tharkay's arm, and Laurence almost hits his head on the door by standing up too quickly. 

Tharkay doesn't shake her off, either. He seems to be listening intently. Edith leads him off a little, as if to keep the kids from hearing anything.

Laurence hisses out a breath in annoyance. He can't believe this is happening. He thought she was giving him an out to keep from having to embarrass himself- "Damn." Laurence lets himself hiss. The baby sleeps on. 

Edith is pulling out her phone and typing in a number. Laurence curses Edith's perfidy, equal only in magnitude to the French, but doesn't know how to stop it. He grabs the bag, hurriedly closing the van and nearly forgetting to lock it. 

He sees Edith see him. They are talking about the bake sale when he gets within earshot. "And more of those apple cakes, if you please, those sold well last time." Edith says innocently. Laurence squints at her with suspicion. "Oh, Will, thank you. Tenzing, I'll text you, I have lots of thoughts." Her eyes cut to Laurence. "About the bake sale. Have you met my youngest?" 

Laurence dodges eye contact through most of Edith's showing off of the baby. Tharkay stands entirely too close, smelling divine and hair moving gently in the cool breeze. Laurence keeps shooting glances at Edith, but she has her genteel poker face on and refuses to give an inch. 

"Seven pounds, five ounces." She says, after an entirely too frank retelling of his birth. Laurence sneaks a look at Tharkay's face and sees a tiny line between his eyebrows smooth out as he realizes it's over. "Alice said I did very well with the after pains, too. They tend to get worse after the third, you know." She laughs. "What am I saying, you don't know. Either road, would you and Arkady like to have a snack with us? I brought extra, of course." 

"You're too kind." Tharkay says, still not looking at Laurence. "I confess we have a previous engagement, though. I look forward to your text, Edith." He nods his head, a little abruptly at Laurence, and goes to collect Arkady. 

Edith looks at him, a smug look on her face. "I don't think you deserve a juice box." Laurence says sternly. She just raises her eyebrows at him. "Why are you texting my ex?" He hisses when he's safely out of earshot. 

"Mmm." She says, deftly pulling out a juicebox from the bag. "That's for me to know and you to find out." She takes a drink. 

"I'm going to tell mother what happened to her pearl necklace that Christmas unless you tell me what you're doing." 

Edith puts the straw in and takes a sip, looking satisfied. "It implicates you as much as me. First rule of parenting, Will- don't make a threat you won't carry out."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Arkady is my favorite con man, does it show? I think he loves Tharkay, but he's also conniving and has a huge personality.

Laurence manages to set up the bake sale without another huge disaster. His heart is thrumming a little. Part of him thinks that Tharkay won't show up at all, even though Edith has taken to hiding her phone pointedly as she taps out texts around him. She smirks when she does it, too. 

Laurence has decided to ignore it. Attention just makes it worse, he's found. He tried to tell Woolvey when they first started dating, and it hadn't ended well. 

Tharkay shows up, Arkady dutifully wheeling in a trolley with boxes. Laurence can tell it's not as many, but it still looks to be several boxes. 

Granby intercepts them, but Laurence can easily overhear. "Twenty again this time, eh? Or did you decide to go up?" Granby says. Laurence busies himself with a clipboard and pretends to be writing down something important.

"No, I found out that my son-" here Tharkay's tone sharpens a little- "had been spinning an elaborate web of lies with our neighbors for the last bake sale cakes." Laurence risks a look up but Arkady just seems pleased with himself, shrugging innocently. "So when I ran out of eggs on the twelfth one because he accidentally sat on them, nobody would lend us more." 

"Ah." Granby says, taken aback. "What lies?" 

"It was our cousin dying of cancer who really wanted cake. A gang of robbers had broken in and stolen the butter. A fight had broken out among my advisee group and Arkady had to use the eggs as projectiles to save me. The last is actually a thing that's happened." Tharkay pauses. "Except for the egg part. Or Arkady saving me." Laurence risks another look up. Granby is blinking. "Never give post docs whiskey." Tharkay adds, a little apologetic. Laurence looks back down. 

He's written incomprehensible scribbles absentmindedly on the clipboard. 

"Duly noted." Granby says. "Only twelve this time, all right. Edie had thought- well. It's a good thing we made extra cinnamon rolls." He takes the box from Tharkay. "We need some help manning our booth, if you'd like to stay-" Granby offers, and Laurence frantically tries to cover his writing by pulling the page out to shred it. 

"Will, oh good, there you are," Edith comes up behind him, leaning into his personal space. "I need you to hold the baby for a moment-" he tries to cover his writing with a hand but too late, she sees her start smiling and then look up and see who's around. She looks toward him with a suddenly terrifying expression on her face. Laurence rips up the paper, maintaining eye contact all the while. "John, come over here, do." She says, looking up and handing Laurence the baby. "I need John to look over the receipts with Will," she says, a brazen lie, "Tenzing, I need you to help me open the booth, they are going to start coming in soon." Laurence, his lap full of tiny baby, looks up. 

"Of course," Granby agrees, the traitor. "Will, I think there was a discrepancy, you have wee William, right-" and hustles him off. 

Laurence asks acidly, "Was that really necessary?" as soon as they are out of earshot. 

Granby claps him on the shoulder. "Of course, of course." He says soothingly. "Edith thought for sure we would have thirty cakes out of him. Come help me get the reserve cinnamon rolls or Bonaparte will outsell us." Laurence readjusts the baby and frowns. 

When they get back, Laurence is holding all the boxes of rolls precariously while Granby holds the baby. "I can't manage much with the hook you see," he lies outrageously, "so you had better carry them all and I'll hold William." 

Laurence decides to let this go. Granby had loved Iskierka's infancy, perhaps all the more in retrospect to her terrifying propensity for chaos as soon as she started moving. He makes embarrassing noises as he jiggles the baby, who is awake for once. 

Laurence no sooner deposits the rolls when he is given another task by Edith. Tharkay is sitting next to her, trying to argue prices with Chenery. 

Granby rather obtrusively corners him in the hallway. "Edie, Edie, come here." Granby whispers, patting the baby's rump. 

Edith comes up, fixing her hair. "I just left him with Bertie and Temeraire, so I don't have long before a fire breaks out. Will, this is getting ridiculous." She puts her hands on her hips and Laurence looks vainly at the exit. 

"Tharkay is the biggest loser nerd ever." Granby says, expression serious. "As your best friend, it's my duty to tell you that I had always thought you were." Edith is nodding. "What's more, he's in love with you." 

Laurence says, brittle ice on his words, "Thank you for your advice, but if you will all be so kind as to remember months ago when he broke up with me-" 

Granby shakes his head. William has begun to fuss gently, and he starts doing the baby dance to soothe him. "That was before he knew you. You never told him you weren't using him for sex, so he just assumed. Since then, he's made you a total of thirty two cakes. Oh, and apple pie today too. He keeps showing up to my yoga class and depressing everybody, the bendy melancholic bastard. And he even texts Edie about things Edie won't tell me about." 

"He really likes the school and wanted to see the bake sale do well." Laurence protests. 

Edith sighs. "Jeremy wanted to get in your yoga pants more than any other person I've known. I caught him flogging a packet of crisps and a piece of celery last year." 

Granby makes a face. "He's the worst. Will, just go talk to Tharkay. It's starting to annoy us." 

Laurence blinks a little. "I've never met either of you before in my life." He says, and they beam at him.


	12. Chapter 12

He manages to dodge direct contact the rest of the night. Temeraire runs off with Arkady, and Laurence pretends not to see them filching some of Catherine's lemon cakes. It's only when he's packing up his car and the van in the nearly deserted car park, Temeraire safely with Edith inside, that he hears the footsteps behind him. 

He turns around to see Tharkay holding a box. "Our sons are with Edith." He says, face blank. "She asked me to come out and help." A fairly transparent ploy, and Laurence doesn't know if he's grateful or frustrated. 

Laurence sets a box down on the edge of a fountain. "Thank you." Laurence says. 

"At least Arkady didn't kick you this time." Tharkay says blandly. 

Laurence huffs a laugh. "He's got a career in football if you let him try out. Why did he kick me, anyway?" 

A long moment. Laurence picks up another box, resettles it in the boot. "Arkady has trust issues." Tharkay says finally, a twist to his lips Laurence can't decipher. "My therapist says I have trust issues too."

Laurence stands up and sees Tharkay is suddenly close, holding a box of cake, the only thing separating them. Tharkay's breath mists slightly in the cool spring air. 

"I- have trust issues." Tharkay amends, tries to smile. "But somehow I feel that I can trust you. And that scares us- me. It scares me." He admits, his breath a soft puff on Laurence's face. 

Laurence looks at his lips, looks back up to his eyes. "You can trust me." He says, closing the distance slowly, tentatively. "You just have to let me in."

Tharkay drops the box in the boot of the car and kisses him. Laurence licks inside his mouth hungrily, fingers twisting in Tharkay's shirt to keep him close. 

He smells and tastes as good as Laurence remembers, with a bite of cinnamon. Apple pie, Laurence thinks dizzily, pulling him closer. 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh so very much porn in this part. 
> 
> I'm waffling about adding more to this AU- I didn't get to any of the yoga puns I wanted to, and I had some Napoleon side plots I haven't written yet- but this feels like an ok stopping point for now.

Laurence puts it off for as long as he can. He steals kisses in hallways, in greeting and farewell, lingering and sweet. He knows Tharkay is getting impatient with the delay, but he refuses to push like he had before. 

Tharkay has taken to pushing forward more and more, slipping a hand under Laurence's shirt to curl possessively around his waist. Although it leaves a trail of fire on his skin, Laurence still manages to open the door and wave him off. 

He can't keep him back forever, but he appreciates it more this time. They take the boys out to libraries, Temeraire protesting to leave and Arkady protesting to go. Laurence takes them out for picnics, to help out on the farm under blue skies. He even takes them swimming to the lake, renting a little rowboat and rowing out to the center of the lake. The boys hoot and Arkady jumps in the lake to swim lazy circles around the boat, popping up to jeer good naturedly at Temeraire. Tharkay is unconcerned, leaning over the side to splash gently at Arkady. 

The summer stretches on, full of the farm and time with Tharkay. He is still a little aloof, but Laurence can see him trying. Laurence catches him at Edith's house more than once, sipping tea and serenely listening to her friends. Edith just smiles at him from behind her teacup. 

Edith offers to watch the boys for one night, a little too innocent. William has started sitting up, waving his fat arms around in excitement. He reaches out to Laurence from where Edith is holding him on her hip. 

"So, really, it's no bother, Will. What's seven versus five? The last two just get added to the mix." She says, bumping into his shoulder as she hands over the baby. "Tenzing already said he was free that night, too, you should text him and see if he wanted to go see a movie." She grins, leans in. "See a movie." She repeats. 

Laurence looks furtive. "I don't want- to make him think- Edie, what if he feels pressured-" 

Edith laughs a little. "Oh, he feels pressured all right. I got seven texts from him after he last went to your yoga class. It's been hell on my texting plan." At Laurence's expression, she softens. "Just talk to him about it. Ask him nicely to have sex with you, I think he'll like that." Laurence glances worriedly toward the baby. "He doesn't understand, Will." 

Laurence jiggles the baby a little. He giggles and touches Laurence's face with sticky fingers. "Alright. Can you pick Temeraire up from school?" 

Edith smiles. "Make sure you look up the plot so you can cover later with Temeraire." 

 

Tharkay's texts are brief, but to the point. Yes, he can drop Arkady off. Yes, he can be there at five. 

It will be the first time they will be alone since the car park. Laurence tries not to fret, but fails. He ends up calling his mother and listening to her talk about her grandchildren for an hour, which he always finds soothing. He mucks out the chicken coop and takes a long shower. 

Tharkay knocks at the door promptly at five, at Laurence can't help a rush of nerves. 

He looks lovely, dark hair carefully messy. Laurence steps back and lets him walk by, but instead Tharkay steps in and closes the door. His eyes are tracking Laurence's lips intently, and he backs Laurence up deliberately against the wall. "The movie starts at six-" 

"Let's stay in." Tharkay says, breath hot on Laurence's face. 

"I bought tickets-" Laurence says, feeling the wall against his back. 

"You can get a refund." Tharkay dismisses, and kisses him firmly. 

Laurence feels his toes curl and his breath come faster. He's half hard, and when Tharkay gives a soft exhalation and pushes a thigh between his legs, he becomes so aroused he can barely think. 

"Upstairs." He manages, Tharkay's breath on his lips. Tharkay hitches him up a little, and Laurence kisses him again. "Please?" He says between kisses. 

Tharkay lets him go abruptly, sketches a salute. "After you." He says, and hustles him up the stairs. 

Laurence doesn't make it to the bed before Tharkay almost pounces on him. He manages to pull Tharkay down on top of him awkwardly, but Tharkay seems too caught up in kissing him to notice. Tharkay rolls his hips a little, pulling urgently at Laurence's belt. "Too- many- clothes-" Tharkay complains, but his voice is warm. 

Finally they get both their trousers off at least. Tharkay doesn't bother with Laurence's shirt, although he does pull his own off impatiently. He reaches into Laurence's bedside table, pulling out the lube and a condom packet. Laurence blushes to remember that he knows where he keeps them. 

Fully naked, he crawls on top of Laurence, hands busy between them rolling the condom on Laurence. "I'm ready." He says, lubing up his fingers and reaching to open himself up. 

Laurence lifts himself up on his elbow. "Wait-" he says. "You said you don't like to bottom." 

Tharkay lifts an eyebrow. "You're complaining about this?" He adds another finger, and Laurence watches hungrily. 

"No." He says, distracted. "But- you had said- I don't want to make you do something you don't want." Tharkay takes a deep breath and adds another finger. "Oh god." Laurence says, a little nonsensically, as Tharkay removes his fingers and lines himself up, sinking down on Laurence's cock. Laurence's heels scrabble a little on the bed and he tries to resist the temptation to mindlessly thrust up into the delicious wet heat. 

He wonders at the speed that Tharkay had prepared himself. He suspects, as much as he can coherently think, that Tharkay had gotten himself ready before coming over. The thought of Tharkay preparing himself patiently at home, lube slipping out, makes his eyes roll back in his head. 

When he's finally fully seated, Tharkay leans over, bracing his hands on the bed by Laurence's shoulders. He rolls his hips, and Laurence gasps, jerking up helplessly. "I said that I didn't like to bottom." Tharkay says, voice breathy. "The truth is that I love to bottom." 

He lifts himself up and slides back down. Laurence nods, a little, hands reaching up to settle on Tharkay's hips. "If you- if you insist-" Laurence says, voice ragged. "I can oblige you, since you ask so nicely-" Tharkay leans down and bites at his lips, licking inside his mouth as he rolls his hips again. Laurence is reduced to slight, needy whimpers, and he can feel Tharkay's satisfied smirk. 

Tharkay lubes his hand up again and starts to jerk himself off. He starts out giving Laurence long smooth glides up and down, but soon enough he can't control it. Laurence gives him short, sharp rolls of his hips as Tharkay clenches and moans helplessly. "So good." He manages to gasp against Laurence's neck before coming messily everywhere. 

Laurence lasts only a few more strokes before coming too, back bowing and holding Tharkay firmly in place. Laurence hopes he will be able to see the bruises on his hips tomorrow. 

Tharkay slumps against him, hot and sweaty. Laurence has another aftershock when Tharkay shifts, and Tharkay laughs at that, low and satisfied, rolling his hips again with purpose. Laurence's breath hitches, trying to bury himself deeper in Tharkay again, but he feels wrung out, his rapidly softening cock straining almost painfully. "I can't again, you insatiable demon." Laurence says, smacking Tharkay weakly on the hip. "Let me clean up." Tharkay hums in agreement. 

Laurence holds the condom in place so he can slip out without taking it with him. Tharkay just rolls over on his back, breath visibly slowing down. 

They are covered in come, though, so Laurence resists the urge to just push his nose against Tharkay's neck. He gets up, disposes of the condom and gets a washcloth wet to clean them both. Tharkay hardly helps, sprawling gracelessly and letting Laurence do all the work. He watches Laurence with heavy lidded eyes. 

As soon as Laurence returns from the bathroom, Tharkay reaches out and hooks him by the hip. He pulls Laurence down and settles him peremptorily on the bed, arranging Laurence's limbs to his satisfaction before insinuating himself inside the warm circle of Laurence's arms, sliding pillows under their heads and behind Laurence's back so he's tilted at the angle Tharkay desires. Laurence lets him do it, a warm glow of satisfaction in his chest. "You're too fit." Tharkay complains a little. "I need so many more pillows for this." 

Laurence chuckles, and Tharkay rubs his face against Laurence's neck in pleasure. "Bossy, aren't you?" He says. 

Tharkay shrugs. "Only when I'm given someone to boss over. So, in these circumstances, yes." 

Laurence blinks his eyes slowly. It's too early for him to really drowse, although he sees Tharkay already drifting. "Do you always fall asleep after?" Laurence asks. 

Tharkay's eyes are firmly shut, breath slow and steady. He lifts a shoulder, but doesn't open his eyes to respond. "No, never." He says. "It does-" a deep sigh, and he somehow works himself closer, "-make me sleepy, but I never let myself." He yawns then, deep and wide. "Never let them fuck me, either, not anymore. I like it, but it's too-" a little line appears between his eyebrows, "-too much." 

Laurence isn't quite sure what to say. He listens to Tharkay's breath slow down further, slight twitches of his limbs as he falls asleep. 

He's starting to get wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. They are subtle, and the dark fan of his eyelashes distract Laurence for long moments. He lets himself brush the thick dark fringe out of his eyes, the hair a little coarse, then closes his own eyes and settles in. 

He knows Tharkay will still be there when he wakes up.


End file.
